This story is about me. Only me. It’s about my ego and insecurities and fears and needs.
I typically write what I think might be useful for others to know and understand, but this is different. It’s more like a diary entry. A confessional. A cry of frustration.
It’s the sort of thing I would address to a wife or partner or trusted companion — if I had a woman in that role. It’s my half of a conversation which I would need to have with someone who loved me and believed in me and was permanently a part of my life.
So this probably isn’t for you.
I’m struggling right now. In many ways, things are the best in my life that they’ve been for at least 20 years. I have stability and purpose again. I know where I want to go. I’m more clear about my values and my priorities than I’ve ever been in my life.
But I’m struggling with the gap between how things ought to be and the reality I see in front of me. And that gap terrifies me — because nobody lives forever.

When you can’t call one you love, silent phone just taunts your need
Ethnic Indian wins Miss America? Who cares? Bigots seem upset
Democrats to Cory Booker: There’s no room for honesty in politics
Narcissists set themselves up for miserable lives and lonely deaths
If you start sharing your abuse, some will tell you to ‘get over it’
Love & Hope — Episode 13:
Don’t believe angry words and deception from a wounded heart
Check out Aya Katz’s interview with me about art and culture
I’m still hungry for healthy love that my 5-year-old self craved